


it may not seem like very much but i'm yours

by Arkham



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, OCD Jack Zimmermann, Slice of Life, pretend jack was a prospect for the lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-02-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 04:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17842238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkham/pseuds/Arkham
Summary: He might not have control over which teams wanted him, which teams offered him the best contracts, but he did have control over when he went to bed at night and when he went on runs.It was enough, barely.Then his flight to Boston from Tampa got delayed and everything was thrown out of whack.





	it may not seem like very much but i'm yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marchingatmidnight](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=marchingatmidnight).



> Another Bitty's Valentine's gift! Happy Valentine's Day @[marchingatmidnight](http://marchingatmidnight.tumblr.com) <3
> 
> inspired by [this](http://thenorthremembered.tumblr.com/post/181209997963/deliverusfromsburb-i-understand-that-a-lot-of)

 

_I may not have the softest touch_

_I_ _may not say the words as such_

_I know I don't fit in that much_

_But I'm yours_

—"I’m Yours”, The Script

 

***

 

Jack had his routine and he didn't like to deviate from it. He went to bed at ten, woke up at five, went on a run, went to class, went to practice, did his homework, and then did it all over again. It worked. It made him feel safe.

The more uncertain things got, the more he adhered to the routine and he was currently fraying at the edges from all the stress of going over contracts. He might not have control over which teams wanted him, which teams offered him the best contracts, but he did have control over when he went to bed at night and when he went on runs.

It was enough, barely. 

Then his flight to Boston from Tampa got delayed and everything was thrown out of whack.

The Amalie Arena had been nice enough, the coaching staff friendly enough, their players certainly skilled enough, but ... well, it was _Tampa_ and Tampa was _hot_. It was late February and the temperature was in the high 20s–something in the low 80s in Fahrenheit, he remembered the pilot saying when he'd touched down a few days back. He'd almost sweat through the slacks and button down he'd brought and had abandoned the idea of wearing a jacket before he’d even left his hotel room.

He knew before he left the arena that this wasn't the place for him but forced himself to power through, smile at the players, shake a few hands. He was ready to be back in Massachusetts where there were still snowbanks piled as high as Bitty's head. He'd texted his agent as much and she'd replied with the thumbs up emoji and "i figured".

And now he was stuck in Tampa International with a carry-on dangling between his feet and tiredness that went all the way down to his bones.

His phone buzzed in his hand. He flipped it over and was greeted with Bitty's face, spattered with flour and grinning up at him. The tension wiggling away in his chest softened a bit as he picked up the call.

"Hey, Bits." 

"Hey, sweetheart. Flight got delayed?" 

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe you should stay down there for a while. Get a tan on that sweet Canadian bod."

Jack barked out a laugh despite himself. "I think I'll leave the tanning to you, eh?"

"Oh, Mr. Zimmermann, one of these days I'm going to drag you to the beach and make you sprawl out until you're as toasty as a marshmallow and you're going to _like_ it!"

Jack thought he _would_ like it, though probably not for the getting tan part.

"I'll hold you to it."

 

***

 

He ended up getting into Logan at two in the morning and didn't get back to Samwell until four. 

He had class at nine and the idea of waking up in an hour or two to go on a run made Jack's stomach turn.

He set his alarm for eight and collapsed into bed fully clothed.

 

***

 

Jack was in trouble.

He'd slept through his alarm—slept all the way to one in the afternoon—and he'd almost forgotten about the midterm he had to take tomorrow. It was for his midlevel America in the 1920s class, so it wasn't the _biggest_ deal, but Jack had been planning to study when he'd gotten back from Tampa yesterday, then some more after his classes today, and so much of that time had already trickled by.

Which was how he found himself in the library at ten at night.

Most of the team was there as well, which was surprising at first, but then he saw the half-empty tray of mini pies on a nearby table and smiled to himself.

Holster saw him first and did a double take before beckoning him over eagerly. Jack sat across from Holster with Shitty to his left.

"Decided to come out of your cave to socialize with the common folk?" Holster grinned.

Jack rolled his eyes and thunked his textbook down on the table in front of him.

"Even the great Jack Zimmermann has to study to pass his classes," Shitty offered.

"Midterm season gets the best of us all," Holster agreed sagely.

"Speaking of which. How's Ransom?" Jack asked. Of all the people he'd expected to find in the library, Ransom had been at the top of his list.

Holster waved a hand. "You know. Coral reef and all that. He'll reemerge when he needs another mini pie."

Arms wrapped around Jack from behind and someone pressed a kiss to the crown of Jack's head. "Can't remember the last time I've seen you out this late," Bitty said wryly before dropping into the seat on the other side of Jack. 

"I go out," Jack protested.

"No, you don't," Shitty and Holster said in sync without glancing up from their work.

Jack gave them a dirty look before slumping a bit in his seat.

Bitty grinned and nudged Jack's foot with his own before opening his laptop and getting to work

 

***

 

Time didn't pass in the library. There were no windows, no clocks—just rows of books, the scratching of pens on paper, and the quiet clicking of keyboards.

Out of nowhere, Ransom collapsed into the seat next to Holster causing everyone at the table to glance up.

"Rans. How goes it?" Shitty asked.

"Polythiophenes," Ransom whispered.

Holster nodded as if Ransom had replied with something that made sense. "For sure, for sure," he said and slung an arm around Ransom's shoulders.

Jack glanced back towards his work. A few moments later Ransom spoke again.

"I think I saw a ghost next to the water fountain."

Jack glanced up again and Holster gave them all a glare that said: 'don't you dare say a single fucking word’.

Shitty closed his textbook and leaned in. "What did they look like?" 

Holster narrowed his eyes at Shitty. 

"Well...I didn't _see_ them, exactly. But they were definitely making the fountain go on and off again."

Shitty nodded. "Well I, for one, have read enough to make my eyes bleed. Wanna go see if we can catch that ghost?"

Ransom perked up a bit and Holster's arm slid so that his hand was curled lightly around the back of Ransom's neck.

"Hell yes."

"I'll come with," Holster said.

"Oh, same," Bitty said. 

They all looked at Jack. 

Jack sighed.

 

***

 

They didn't find the ghost, but they did end up playing Marco Polo in the stacks. 

When Bitty was Marco with his eyes squeezed shut and arms precariously reaching forward, Jack snuck up behind him and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

Bitty made a small noise of surprise. "Mr. Zimmermann, you are a menace," he whispered.

"Hey! No cheating!" Shitty whisper-yelled from two rows over.

Jack rolled his eyes, spun Bitty around, and kissed him on the lips.

 

***

 

They got kicked out of the library at 3 am by a librarian who looked like she'd been dealing with college student antics for decades.

Had Jack really been in Tampa just 36 hours before?

Bitty was a warm weight at his side, leaning in and smiling up at him.

Wherever he ended up—whether it was Tampa or Boston or Providence or Calgary—he'd have had this. He'd have had Bitty and Shitty and Ransom and Holster and _Samwell_. 

It might have been easier if he'd gone first in the draft. It would have been more certain, for sure, knowing exactly which team would take him.

If you’d asked him five years ago, he’d have said that that was all he’d ever wanted.

But now … certainty was nothing compared to four years spent making friends that showed him there was more to life than hockey.

He squeezed Bitty’s hand and Shitty slung an arm over Jack’s shoulders.

It was enough. It was more than enough.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://leviathan.tumblr.com)


End file.
